Good gracious! what a scene of confusion and confabulation next takes place! Fellum’s first stage in pursuit is the public-house; there he unwittingly persuades Mrs. Snozzle that her spouse is unfaithful—­that he it was who “stole away the old man’s daughter.” Mrs. Snozzle raves, and threatens a divorce; Snozzle himself trembles—­he suspects the police are after him for being the receiver of stolen goods, instead of the deceiver of unsuspecting virtue. Swivel dreads being taken up for prigging the parrot; and a frightful catastrophe is only averted by the entrance of the truant lovers, who have performed the comedy of “Matrimony” in a much shorter time than is allowed by the act of Parliament.

Mrs. Keeley played the tamburine, and the part of Snozzle femme.  This was more than acting; it was nature enriched with humour—­character broadly painted without a tinge of caricature.  The solemnity of her countenance, while performing with her feet, was a correct copy from the expression of self-approbation—­of the wonder-how-I-do-it-so-well—­always observable during the dances of the fair sex; her tones when singing were unerringly brought from the street; her spangled dress was assuredly borrowed from Scowton’s caravan.  As a work of dramatic art, this performance is, of its kind, most complete.  Keeley’s Snozzle was quiet, rich, and philosophical; and Saunders made a Judy of himself with unparalleled success. Frank Finch got his deserts in the hands of a Mr. Everett; for being a lover, no matter how awkward and ungainly an actor is made to represent him.

* * * * *

“OH!  DAY AND NIGHT, BUT THIS IS WONDROUS STRANGE!”

    “We believe, from the first, Day was intended to mount, and
    wherefore it was made a mystery we know not.—­DOINGS AT
    DONCASTER.”—­[Sunday Times.]

  Poor Coronation well may say,
    “A mystery I mark;
  Though jockey’d by the lightest Day
    They tried to keep me dark.”

* * * * *